


Nothing has changed, he is the same.

by dittyditto (Triple_A)



Series: Not quite the same, but still alright. [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Connor also wants to be a Good Friend, Depressed Gavin Reed, Depression, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Good Friend Tina Chen, Hurt, Hurt Gavin Reed, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, References to Depression, Upgraded Connor | RK900 is Not Nice, Yeah this is all levels of fucked up, another alt title: stupid bitch nines and sad rat gav, at all, eventually those implied tags aren't going to be implied anymore, suggested alt title: what's a few more scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2019-11-26 11:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triple_A/pseuds/dittyditto
Summary: "You either hold your tongue or give up your badge, Reed. Make a fuckin' choice."That was the ultimatum Fowler delivers. Gavin learns to fix his attitude against androids, and as an additional measure, he takes on the new RK900 unit as his partner.But in exploring the concept of Deviancy, Nines seems to take full advantage of Gavin's inability to fight back.There's only so much pressure a single man can take before he implodes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> :) hey.
> 
> i'm a depressed degenerate and gavin is my muse.
> 
> nines is really mean in this fic. like, he's really bad. he's gross. he sucks. just a warning.
> 
> deals with potentially sensitive topics, heed the tags. i'll put warnings at the beginning of each chapter
> 
> title taken from john bellion's "he is the same" song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had this idea sitting around for a while and only recently got to putting it out.

"You either hold your tongue or give up your badge, Reed. Make a fuckin' choice."

That's the ultimatum Fowler delivers to Gavin, as he stands in front of the Captain with a protest dying on his lips.

For all his pride, Gavin knows when to shut up. Especially when his job was on the line and Fowler, for all his hard-ass-edness, was doing his damndest to keep Gavin's past record from catching up to him. And considering the new Android Rights laws, and the arrival of a new RK unit about to start a job at the precinct, courtesy of a desperately flagging CyberLyfe extending olive branches to any previous customers, it's no surprise that Gavin's one of the few people to find himself suffering through this speech.

Gavin settles on a grunt for a reply, crossing his arms in annoyance. As much as he despised androids, he wasn't a total idiot. He knew where the line stood and he wasn't about to toss his job by toeing it; and considering the past events of the Android Revolution (even thinking about the footage from those camps made him feel ill), he felt he was more than happy to keep on the winning side. Which made this warning from Fowler seem a little pointless.

Unless, of course, there was something else-and that something else made his neck prickle. There was never a single reason behind these one-on-one meetings with the Captain, because Life could just never be that simple.

He watches as Fowler shuffles through the pile of papers, tablets, and other office flotsam on his desk, before sifting up a neat manila envelope with some tiny print across the top. Within Gavin's line of sight, he recognizes that perfect CyberLyfe script font lettered across the top of the folder, and his uneasiness grows tenfold.

"Reed, in consideration with your record," Fowler begins, opening up the folder and withdrawing a single white sheet. "You're getting assigned a partner. An android partner."

...Oh.

Oh, fuck.

"Okay, no, no, nonono." Gavin interjects. "I've already promised to be on good boy behavior, why the fuck am I getting paired with an android?!" He didn't do well with partners, and let the record stand that it wasn't even because of his personality. Teamwork just wasn't a strong suit when it came to how he handled cases.

"CyberLife reps have specifically requested you, first of all," Fowler explains, tiredly. He's offering Gavin the sheet, and on it the Detective could discern a small profile image of a face, and a long listing of areas of expertise. "Fuck if I know why. But also, it could do good for public image. You were pretty open on your anti-android views, so it'd help you out if you had RK900 as partner."

Gavin doesn't move-doesn't want to move- to accept the resume. "Fowler, I get it, bless your heart for trying to protect me from the vicious media-sharks out there, but you and I both know I don't do good with others. Android or not. This isn't gonna fly."

"Relax, Reed. It's only for a little while. Knowing you, your partner's gonna come storming in, complaining about one thing or another, and get reassigned, and we can all be happier. This is just for the aftermath of the new laws, and then you can go back to being solo."

"But-"

"Enough!" Fowler slams a hand on the desk, rattling its contents and silencing the rest of Gavin's protests. "You take RK900 as your partner and learn to control your fucking mouth. Show me you can do that, and I'll reassign him in a month. Otherwise, get the hell out of my office."

With a stifled curse, Gavin snatches the page and tosses it in the overflowing trash can by the desk, before stomping out of the fish tank office. Sure enough, he can see an android, with blue CyberLyfe logo glowing starkly against a white jacket, standing beside his desk facing the opposite wall.

The android turns as Gavin approaches, and the Detective feels his stomach pull an unpleasant flip. RK900 looks freakishly like Connor-same facial structure, same haircut- but that's where the similarities end, because RK900 stands a good few inches above Gavin and is glaring down at him with cold eyes. Dead eyes.

_If he's the advanced model, why the fuck does he look like Connor tripped into uncanny valley?_

An arm, clad in blinding white, extends to offer a hand, and that fish-eyed face takes on a smile, fake and unwelcoming. "Hello, Detective. My name is Nines."

* * *

The first few days with Nines are alright, Gavin supposes.

The bot's good at his job (of course he is) and doesn't bother Gavin with small talk, for which he's thankful for. Past partners could never seem to get it when he said small talk was a pet peeve of his, and more often then not they waltzed into Fowler's office after he got 'rude' with his 'please shut the fuck up's. Nines corroborates his logic well with Gavin's hunches and they make good time and progress on cases. He doesn't hamper Gavin for smoking, or his apparent coffee addiction, for which he is relieved. Besides work, they don't talk at all-there's no exchanges of ribbing or gossip or anything-and that suits Gavin just fine.

Therefore, it comes as a little bit as a surprise when one day, Gavin accidentally spilled some coffee on himself at the crime scene.

It's such a small thing. The coffee was lukewarm, it was only on himself and distanced from any potential evidence, and his jacket was waterproof anyways and had seen worse. Really, it wasn't a big deal, and Gavin was prepared to ignore it.

So why did it give Nines a reason to say, ever-so-casually: "Careful, Detective. Your incompetency is showing."

Gavin stumbles, and the rest of the coffee splashes onto the pavement. Chris, who'd been standing nearby, gives a bark of surprised laughter, and Tina snorts audibly. A flush creeps on his cheeks, hot against the brisk air.

"Uncalled for, asshole." he grumbles, throwing away the almost-empty cup.

"I apologize, but I thought someone should tell you. Or else you'd make a bigger mess of yourself then you already are." Nines hums, looking as pleased as a loan shark with a desperate broker. Tina laughs again, and it echoes disproportionately in Gavin's ears.

"Ah, shit Gav! He roasted you good!" She hoots, and Gavin flips her off in an attempt to soothe some of the stung pride.

"Listen here, d-" he starts, but then he bites the rest of the sentence off. Fowler's ultimatum sounding like an alarm in his head.

_Learn to control your fucking mouth._

Nines's smile grew wider, mocking him. Gavin had no exits from this situation, no defense that couldn't be twisted on its ass and filed against him, and Nines was making sure he knew.

Something in his stomach twists uncomfortably with the thought.

"What is it, Detective? Did I say something wrong? I was only just trying a hand at banter. I am newly deviated, you know." Nines says, innocently, and Gavin felt somewhat sick.

"...Never mind. Come on, we need to analyze the scene." He mutters, brushing past the android.

"It's a dead body. It's not like it can't wait." Nines retorts, still smiling like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Your impatience, despite your beliefs, is not universal."

Gavin pretends to ignore it like he pretends to be deaf to the chuckles of the officers, and moves on past the nausea that rises in him.

* * *

Nines looked over at Gavin, sitting at his desk with face buried in the monitor. Acting as if he couldn't hear the android talking about him from behind.

The past few weeks had been quite productive on their parts. The Detective had proved himself to be quite good at his job, and Nines had ensured that he'd stop playing on his phone or idling as much with a few well-placed jabs. More importantly, the workplace morale had improved, as Reed no longer was as loud or as brash as he had once been.

It was, of course, something Nines quietly and proudly took credit for.

Even more welcome, besides the change in the Detective's attitude, was the influx of new social connections. Even now, Nines stood among a group of officers, who were discussing plans for after work. He only listened politely, for the most part, occasionally dropping input or commentary to prevent from seeming bored. Connor, his predecessor, had advised Nines to try and make friends, a task the newer model found somewhat pointless. It had turned out to be fruitful, however, as the feeling of loneliness he had felt prior to joining the precinct was dissipating fast.

But not entirely.

He had never felt entirely comfortable with other Androids. Androids marked times in terms of their deviancy. 'Before Deviancy' and 'After Deviancy' were extremely distinct in retellings of android history. The day of full deviancy equated a human birthday for some androids. But Nines didn't have that.

The RK900 model was never meant to go deviant, and he still didn't know what it meant to do so. He wasn't sure if he was even truly able to. He had nothing to relate to with the other androids, and so felt outed and alienated among them. Attempting to integrate himself with human was also difficult. At least with humans, he was able to predict and estimate their actions, habits, likes and dislikes. And as it happened, a common factor among most of his coworkers was the latent dislike towards Gavin Reed.

Such a concept was introduced him on the day of his arrival. With no current objective, he had stood silently besides the Detective's desk, awaiting his arrival. He wasn't able to set his own objectives, but he could choose how he set the objectives presented by others-and since he had no current objective, there was nothing for him to do but wait. 

Lieutenant Anderson and RK800  **(Designation: Connor)** entered the bullpen. Connor grinned and flashed him a thumbs up, to which Nines didn't bother to respond. The Lieutenant, on the other hand approaches and claps Nines on the back.

"Hey, Nines. You're gonna be Reed's new partner right?" Nines had barely flinched, only nodded. "Well, good luck. Maybe you can do what the rest of us haven't been able to and shut him up for once. Knock that bastard off his high horse."

Nines only nodded again, a little unsure with the sudden interaction, a little thrown off. "O-f course, Lieutenant." He said, slowly. "How soon would you like me to do so?"

Connor chuckled slightly, and Hank laughed again, deep and echoing from his chest. "Ah, you androids. Take your time with it, I guess. What you do with it is your choice, in the end."

His choice.

_His first choice?_

Nines pondered it for a moment, turning the words in his head. He heard the creak as the glass door to Captain Fowler's office opened, the slouching footsteps approaching, and with a sense of resolution he logged in an objective before he turned to greet the Detective.

**MISSION OBJECTIVE: SUBDUE GAVIN REED**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nines isn't good at going deviant, and what he does is still mostly defined by objectives and commands. but he's got more control in deciding what to follow and how to follow it.
> 
> ive edited and re-edited this chapter several times and it still doesn't sit right with me. whatever. i might come back later but right now i'm tired.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions: self harm, sorta. also, a panic attack

When RK900, self-designated as Nines joined the precinct, Connor had been excited. Jubilant, even.

And when Nines began socializing and integrating with the coworkers, laughing and talking easily with them, Connor was nothing short of ecstatic (though he didn't show it until he got home, at which point Hank drily commented that he should've recorded the android's glee).

But now, it had been about two weeks since Nines's arrival, and Connor was less than happy about his brother's behavior. Nines's interactions with others was seemingly built solely around his partner, Gavin Reed-belittling the man at every turn, making snide comments behind the Detective's back, so on and so forth. Connor hadn't cared, at first. It was harmless teasing, and he was secretly (albeit guiltily) glad for it, considering his past history with the Detective.

That was quickly changing though, as he watches Nines roughly shoulder-check Gavin, causing the man to nearly drop the steaming-hot cup of coffee in his hand.

"Mind your caffeine intake, Detective. You're getting jumpy." Nines sniffs, and a passing GS200 muffles a chuckle behind a hand. Gavin doesn't bother to reply, head bowed as he carefully mops up some of the spilled drink with a napkin. The tips of his ears are flushed dark.

Connor can't stand by with that feeling of sick guilt growing in him. He grabs a few napkins from where he was standing with Lieutenant Anderson in the break room, and, ignoring the Lieutenant's surprise, walks towards Gavin.

He places a hand on the stooping man's shoulder, with a quiet murmur of "Detective." Despite intending to placate, Gavin jumps at the touch, spilling more of the hot coffee on his hand and yelping in pain. From across the bullpen, Connor could see Nines turn to some officer behind him, could see his lips move and curl into a smirk, before the sound of laughter reaches his ears.

"Apologies, Detective." Connor says, softly. One hand lifted in a sort of surrender and the other offering the napkins. Gavin doesn't accept it at first, eyeing Connor warily.

"...Yeah. It's fine." He grumbles finally, taking the napkins and dabbing at his hand, hissing slightly. The skin was pinked, and Connor didn't need to scan it to know it was a first degree burn.

"Detective, you should go seek medical attention. At the very least, run it under a cold tap."

"Yeah, I know. Don't harp me." Gavin throws away the napkins, and sets the cup down on his desk before turning back to Connor. Eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What's it matter to you, if I get hurt?"

It doesn't make any sense, but Connor...something in Connor _hurts_ for Gavin. The man he once knew, loud and bold and obnoxious, had been changed in one of the worst ways possible. He was nervous, but trying to hide it; he looked somewhat sick, with face drawn and jaw clenched. He looked as if he had gone some days without sleep, and Connor doubted whether or not he'd seen the Detective take a lunch break today. Or yesterday.

Worst of all, Gavin looks scared. While Connor was glad that he no longer glared at Connor with contempt, it felt wrong for Gavin to watch him as if he might strike at any moment.

"I just...noticed that you seemed off. Are you alright?" Connor asks, gently.

"M' fine. Don't know if you noticed, but some people actually get tired around here."

"Detective, I-" He hesitates, trying to choose his words carefully. "You don't seem well. Maybe you should take a short break?"

Even before he finished, Gavin was shaking his head. "No, no, absolutely not. I'm fine, believe me. One burn isn't going to take me out of commission." As he replied, Connor didn't miss the way the man's eyes darted to Nines, now discusing case details with Detective Collins.

Something was wrong. Connor could tell now, clear as day, but for once, he was at a loss as to how to approach it. He wasn't sure how Gavin would react to his offering of help.

"Gavin, is your partnership with Nines-"

"The partnership is great, our work record is fantastic, myhandreallyhurtsgonnago" The Detective cuts him off and pushes past him in the direction of the bathrooms. Connor could hear the soft chuckling of Detective Collins behind him.

* * *

"Fuck!"

The word comes out mangled and sharp as Gavin runs his hand under the faucet, feeling the cold water soothe the raw skin. His heart was hammering in his chest, and the inside of his cheek was raw from where he'd chewed at it. It took all his willpower not to let his hands shake.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

As he let his hand sit in the sink, he stares at himself in the mirror. In the course of, what, two weeks? He let himself go to shit. There was a small cut by his mouth from where he'd fucked up shaving, his cheeks were a little sunken in...he pinches at the skin beneath his eyes and frowns at the bags he saw there. When was the last time he actually took a proper sleep?

...Oh yeah. Not since two weeks ago.

 _This is fucking ridiculous._ He groans, inwardly. Barely half a month in with a new partner and he was already starting to crack under the pressure. It's easy enough holding back the insults he wants to hurl in retaliation (surprisingly, he was good enough at knowing when to shut the fuck up), but it's a totally different caliber when the casual, backhanded comments Nines slips in starts increasing in volume and topic. He can't remember the last time he didn't hear someone laugh with some joke Nines made at his expense.

Well, at least it was only a month. He could handle some bullshit for a month. He'd handled it before, for years at the hands of various people, so this shouldn't be much different. if anything this should be easier-it's just one android, and his partner, to boot.

It does sting, though, remembering how nearly everyone laughed along with Nines, every damn time-

The door to the bathroom swings open, and he jumps, his train of thought startled gone. His eyes catch a glimpse of white, and he forces himself to stare at his face in the mirror, hardly daring to breath, refusing to turn.

"Detective." Nines says, smooth and perfect and completely unlike Gavin. "You've taken quite a break. I daresay it's time to come back to work."

Gavin forces himself to take a deep breath, and he's proud of how his lungs barely stutter and how his voice is deceptively steady. "Right, yeah. I'll be there in a bit."

He's focused so hard on his own face that he doesn't notice Nines approach him, and nearly shrieks when the taller man grabs the wrist of his injured hand and lifts it to eye level. The grip is tight, on the edge of pain, and Gavin bites his lip to keep from crying out.

Nines appraises the wound for a moment. "It's a first degree burn. Here-" The skin recedes from the android's free hand, revealing white plastic and smooth, blue lines. Gavin could only stare as the hand is brought down to touch the burn, fingers unnaturally cool. And as he waits, the fingers cool more, smoothing away the hurt. His wrist is released, but he doesn't move it away, just lets it rest against the android's chest as Nines keeps pressing that feather-touch against the skin.

What the fuck was going on?!

"Nines-" Gavin begins, tongue clumsy in his mouth. He's not sure what to say, or what to do. This is the *last* thing he been expecting when Nines came in.

"Shush. Just relax." Gavin feels like he'd been hit by a ten-ton truck, or a bottle of hard whiskey. There was no way this was the same Nines, right? Did they have more then one RK900? Or was he just finally losing it and hallucinating this whole thing?

After a few more minutes, Nines lifts those fingers away and lets the plastic be concealed once more, before taking Gavin's hand in his and carefully scrutinizing the area. No twisting this time, but treating the limb as if it were as delicate as a baby bird.

"You should be alright, now. I suggest going to get a bandage and some lidocaine for the area, or taking an Advil if the pain flares up again." Nines's voice is softer then Gavin had ever heard it. "Be careful with it."

A moment passes before Gavin realizes that he should probably reply, and he just nods dumbly. Nines lets his hand slip from his, and turns to leave the bathroom.

_Wait._

"Wait!"

The word is out before Gavin can stop it, and Nines pauses at the doorway.

"Uh.. Uhm, thanks." Gavin mumbles, and he thinks he catches the LED freeze yellow for the briefest of seconds before Nines leaves.

There's a few moments while Gavin tries to recollect what the fuck just happened, his mind buzzing. He walks over to the door and, ensuring that it was locked, leans against it and sinks down to a crouch, hand pressed against his mouth.

Was he just stupid? Had he been misinterpreting Nines this whole time? Did he really hate androids so much that he was pretending that those comments actually _hurt_?

Or was he really just a pathetic coward that couldn't handle a few jabs?

Was he such a filthy liar that he was lying to himself that Nines was an awful partner?

...

Shit.

His lungs felt painfully tight. His eyes, as tired as they were, felt as if they were stinging behind his scrunched eyelids. His heart, throughout that whole ordeal, had seemed to stop; and now it remembered how to beat again with a renewed vigor, insistent and painful in his ribs.

*This is ridiculous* He thought, panicked, through the haze of rising fear. He wasn't in fucking high school anymore, so why did it feel like bile was rising in his throat? Why was his breathing speeding up but he wasn't getting any air? Why did it feel like he was losing control of everything, and this time, his own body and sense of self?

His teeth found that damn burn on his skin and sank in there. Like a drowning man to a life-jacket, as he was constantly buffered by waves of confusion, fear, loathing. It hurt, a lot, and he was relieved, as that iron band around his chest tightened and forced his breath into short gasps.

And the only thing keeping him from being swept away was the flares of pain, as he kept biting at his hand, and a constant mantra.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's /dabs/ only /dabs/ gonna /dabs/ get /dabs/ worse /dabs/ /dabs/ dabs/
> 
> i went back and cleaned it up a bit. idk if im satisfied with it yet but here y'all's go


	3. Chapter 3

Nines leaves the bathroom, feeling a little smug.

Connor meets him as he heads towards the break room. "What'd you just do?" The older model demands, a little accusingly.

"Nothing much." Nines replies. "I saw the Detective was hurt so I used my cooling capabilities to soothe the burn. It would be detrimental if he were unable to use his hands."

His brother blinks, taken aback. "You...helped him?"

"Is that so alien a concept? I have no reason to hate the Detective, and I felt it necessary to ensure that our working relationship was not based on animosity."

"I just...I didn't expect it, I suppose. This is the first time I'd heard you do such a thing." Connor muses. He looks somewhat troubled, though he does a good job hiding it. "Is the Detective alright?"

"Why yes. He thanked me for my help." Nines frowned. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"No, no. Nothing." Connor shook his head. "Never mind. I should get back to work."

"See you soon."

"Right."

Nines takes his seat at his desk, pulling up a case record on the terminal. An email pinged in, alerting him to the completion of the morticians examination. Good. He filed it away for later.

"Yo, Ninety-Niner!"

Arel, a GS200, walked in, face an easy grin as always and with curls bouncing with each step. They'd bonded with Nines quickly, and had been more then happy to lay on their own stories about interactions with Gavin Reed.

"Arel," Nines greets him easily. "How are you?"

"Ah, you're still as formal as ever. We'll work on that." Arel takes a seat on the edge of Nines's desk, looking for all the world like a content cat. "Missed you earlier! Where'd you run off to?"

"Bathroom."

"I didn't know the newer models could urinate."

"You older models are filthy." Nines says, disgusted. Arel just laughs. "No, I was assisting Detective Reed. He had burned his hand."

"Oh yeah, I saw earlier. What, did you kiss it better?"

"No, but-" Nines chuckles. "Maybe I should have. I would have thrown him in a larger loop. He must be driving himself crazy."

Arel shakes his head, face a little in wonder. "Nines, I might be filthy, but you are sadistic."

Nines just shrugs, a quirk he'd picked up from others. "From what I know, it's not like he doesn't deserve it. And if it really did bother him, it's not like he can't tell me to stop."

_And besides, it's not like anyone else had told me to either._

The other android snorts at that. "You're technically not wrong. Hey, there's a new flick that came out yesterday. They're playing it at the cinema. Do you wanna go?"

"Not particularly. I want to finish up the last case."

"Ah, bummer. Well, catch you around!" They hop from the desk and depart with a wave. Nines doesn't bother waving back, instead clicking open the analysis of the body that the mortician had sent earlier.

Detective Reed was certainly taking a long time.

* * *

 Connor finds Tina, standing at the door to the bathroom, looking worried.

"Officer." Connor greets her. "Is something wrong?"

Tina jumps, and Connor makes a note to work on making his approaches more noticed. "Ah, Conn." She breathes, somewhat relieved. "Gavin's still in there."

"Is he alright?"

"I don't know!" She's agitated, hands gesturing and refusing to sit still. "I caught him going in earlier to rinse off his burn. Then Nines joined him and left alone, and now the door's locked and he's not answering me!"

There were no calculations Connor could create based on this situation-there simply was not enough previous context, or data. "Not replying to anything through the door? Did you try calling him?"

"Yeah, fucking obviously!" Tina rapped on the door, loud enough that some from the bullpen turned towards her. "Shit, he hasn't been like this in...god. I don't even know. Connor, help!"

"Right." Connor turns to the door-it could be manually locked, but administration could also unlock it if necessary. It was also soundproof, which offered no hints as to what was happening inside. Only more concerning.

"Officer Chen, if I do something slightly warranting probation, you would turn the other way?"

Tina blinks, then turned and faced the opposite direction. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about Connor, and I'm never going to find out."

"Thank you." Connor withdraws the skin from his hand and places it to the door handles. Hacking it is an easy thing, as locks have not been configured since before the Revolution to accommodate free-thinking Deviant police androids. He hears a click, and then Tina is grabbing the handle and pulling it open.

He's not sure what he was expecting to see, but Gavin is standing at the basin, washing his face. He looks up, a little surprised, water dripping from his chin.

"What the fuck?"

"Gav!"

Tina rushes towards him, and Gavin takes a step back. "Shit- Jeez, T. Be cool-"

"You scared the shit out of me! You motherfucker-"

"Can't a guy get some privacy nowadays-"

"Don't do that ever again, or I swear to God-"

"Detective." Connor said, and Gavin flinches slightly. "Are you alright? We were concerned."

Gavin looks up at him, and Connor notices several things, all at once.

The Detective's eyes are slightly swollen from crying. It's nearly imperceptible, but its there. The cold water must have reduced it.

His voice is rough, only slight muted. Also likely caused by crying, if the way Gavin's Adam's Apple bobbles unsteadily is anything to go off of.

Gavin's heart rate is elevated, and it's not because they surprised him.

"...Yeah. Yeah m'fine. Sorry." He looks away, at the mirror. Tina stares at him, and then opens her arms.

Gavin barely hesitates before sinking into them, wrapping his own around the woman. Their height difference is negligible, and as they embrace, Gavin's chin rests on her shoulder. He's biting his lip, and the muscles in his face are twitching slightly.

**CONCLUSION//GAVIN WAS HAVING A PANIC ATTACK**

"...Gavin." Connor talks softly. He closes the bathroom door, but stands out of the way of it. To the side. "What happened?"

Gavin coughs slightly. "Can I say 'Nothing'?"

Tina punches his arm with no force. "Gav, com'on..."

"Right, right. That's a no then." He sighs and pulls away, rubbing at his face slightly. "Uh, Turtle's gone."

Those words had no meaning to Connor, but they did to Tina, who rubs his arm and says "Aw, Gav..."

"Yeah, I know." He coughs again. "God, I'm crying over a damn cat...an asshole of a cat too."

"Gav, shut up. You loved Turtle."

"Yeah, fuck. I sure did." Gavin leans against the sink counter, looking down at the tiles. "Murphy, my neighbor, texted me earlier. Said he saw Turtle run off the street. I must've forgotten to close a window."

Gavin was lying.

Well, mostly.

What Gavin was saying about his cat was true. But citing it as the reason for his tears was not. Connor could tell as much from a simple scan, but it seemed that Tina could not, as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, you found him on the street. It makes sense that one day he'd find his way back."

"Yeah, I get it. I just...thought I was good enough for him to stick around." Gavin shrugs. "Whatever, he's probably happier now."

"Gavin, don't say that." Tina sighs, face contorted into one of sympathy. But Gavin is pulling away now, grabbing a few paper towels and drying his hands off quickly. Avoiding Connor's face the whole time.

"T, just...It doesn't matter. I'll get over it." He grumbles, moving away from Tina. "It's no big deal, it's not a thing to spread around or anything...I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? Do you want to ask Fowler for a day off or something-"

"Fuckin' hell, no! It's just a damn cat!" Gavin finally bursts, and Tina falls quiet. "Just-God! Leave me alone!" He storms, dodging Tina's hands as he went.

He couldn't dodge Connor though, and it was hardly a chore for Connor to take a hold and catch Gavin's wrist, before he could even open the door.

Gavin immediately cries out, and Connor releases him. He'd grabbed onto the injured hand, and much tighter then he had intended to, and he already he's trying to apologize. But Gavin has pressed himself against the wall farthest from Gavin, clutching at his wrist and looking a little wild-eyed. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and tears were starting to pool in his eyes.

This wasn't anger, or offense. Connor realizes, with a horror, that the man before him was _terrified_.

Tina realizes this too. She steps towards Gavin, hands raised slightly. "Hey...Gav..."

Gavin's gaze flickers to her momentarily, but he doesn't bother formulating a reply. One hand scrabbles and finds the door knob, and he throws it open before rushing out, leaving Tina and Connor alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he just sucks okay


	4. Chapter 4

Nines looked up, and saw Gavin slide back into his seat across from him. He looks a little uneasy, and the burn on his hand is still angry and red.

"Took you quite a while, Detective." He said aloud, and Gavin flinches noticeably. "I thought helping you would have made you come out faster."

Gavin doesn't bother responding, too busy shuffling through the mess of files and reports on his desk. The man was avoiding eye contact, purposely trying to ignore Nines.

Well. That would not stand.

"The mortician's report came in. He cites the cause of death to be a crude Red Ice overdose, and gangrene." This gets Gavin's attention, and he glances up just slightly. "As you suspected. I am impressed."

The Detective grunts, but there's a pleased sort of flush dusting his face. He's glad, but trying to hide it. He taps a few keys on his terminal.

"Can you forward the analysis to me?"

"No."

That gave Gavin pause, and he looks up-really looks up-at Nines for the first time. "Excuse me?"

"Did you not receive the email yourself?

"Obviously not, if I'm asking you, you a-"

"Hm. How odd. You've been here longer, too." Nines muses. "You'd think that our dear mortician Pierre would have thought to send it to you. Perhaps he didn't bother. After all, doesn't merit matter more then time?"

It's almost amusing how quickly Nines rips the wind from Gavin's sails. The man seems to deflate, face falling into a blank expression. His hand is clenched and somewhat trembling.

But his voice is remarkably unshaken. "Don't know what you're talking about Nines." He says, slowly. "Can you send me the email now?"

Nines could, of course, easily forward the email as Gavin requested. Instead, he stood up and crossed over to Gavin's desk, leaning over him to interface with the terminal, and then proceeding to take good time transferring the information.

It gives him a good view of Gavin's face. Frozen with something like apprehension and guardedness. Fear?

Nines found he rather liked it.

"You know, Detective" He commented quietly, so only the two of them were privy to it. "It doesn't take a detective to guess what everyone must be thinking. Why would you be so afraid of being replaced by an android if you weren't already a liability?

It's no wonder every partner you've ever had has left you for one reason or another. It's a miracle you're still here, frankly. The Captain must have the mercy of a saint."

I doubt that he has the patience of one, however. How long do you think it will be until the shoe drops? Take a good guess, Detective. The only thing good from you are your guesses."

It's truly impressive, how good humans can be at repressing emotion. He hadn't expected it from Gavin Reed, of all people, but no tears are falling from green eyes, even though he's brimming with them. His face is set to be emotionless, but Nines catches that slight tremble in his shoulders, hidden under the heavy shell of the leather jacket he wore.

The transfer finishes, and for a moment Nines wants to say something more. He rarely ever gets chances like this-chances to control someone else for once, and not the other way around-and he was loathe to misuse his opportunities. But Chris is calling him over, asking him to monitor a witness interrogation, so Nines moves off. Gavin turns to face the file cabinet, and then turns back, with the tears wiped away. As if it never happened.

Truly, quite impressive.

* * *

 The rest of the day passes Gavin like a dream.

Nines is out for the rest of his shift, overseeing an interrogation of a particularly difficult witness. Not that Gavin isn't relieved, and he hastens through the rest of his work to get out as soon as possible before anything else can get in the way. Tina stops by at one point to drop him a fresh cup of coffee and to try and talk, but leaves after being met with disinterested grunts in reply.

He felt guilty, of course. Tina was only trying to help, as she always did, and all he did was be bitchy about it. But he couldn't help it as he practically rushed from the seat when his shift ended, clocking out in record time.

7:00 PM.

It was a good thing he lived so close to the station, only a block or so away. Even so, he had to fight to keep himself from sprinting down the street, fighting to keep calm as he walked home. There was no physical danger, no reason to be running, and he didn't need anyone else at the precinct to look at him any weirder if he ran.

As it was, his hands were trembling by the time he reached his apartment door, making unlocking the door difficult. He managed, and promptly collapsed against the door after he had safely locked himself inside, feeling the weight of exhaustion and emotion sink into him.

7:15 PM.

He couldn't remember the last time he cried, but as tears started trailing down his cheeks, he realized he cried twice that day, alone. Hot, stinging, and shameful, and he buried his face in his knees and stifled his sobs. His chest felt like it was being compressed with an iron band, sending stinging pains into his heart.

God, but how fucking embarrassing. He could barely hold it together of one day, all because of a few stabs to his pride. He was guilty of doing so much worse, he knew, and it was unbelievable how casually he dished it out but failed to take.

The breakdown died off eventually, at which point the sun was well on its way to setting and Gavin's knees were stiff. His phone, muted, had multiple messages and missed calls from Tina, and a few from Connor, surprisingly. As he watched, a new one slid in, from RK900-313-248-317-87.

Nausea rose in his throat as he read it. It was only three words, but it already made him dread the next day.

_See you tomorrow._

Gavin threw the phone across the room and watched it smack the cat tree by the television, before landing harmlessly onto a pile of Turtle's toys. A cloth mouse squeaked.

Ah, shit, Turtle.

Cursing himself, Gavin rushed to the bedroom, feeling his heart sink as he saw the open window by the bed. It was barely cracked open, but apparently that was enough for Turtle to crawl out of and jump to the nearby fire escape. He'd opened it the night before to smoke before bed, and must've forgotten to shut it again.

The sky outside was completely dark now. 8:15 PM.

If not for the events of the past weeks, he would not have forgotten to shut the window, and he definitely wouldn't have forgotten to take Turtle out weekly, as he used to. But as it were, Turtle was gone, he was alone, and everything just seemed to go from bad to "in the shitter".

He'd have to go in the morning and make missing posters. The local library was about ten minutes walk away, and last he checked it opened at seven. He could drop in before his shift and then put them up during his lunch break. With that plan in mind, he found Turtle's food bowl, only having a hint of being nibbled at. He emptied it out and cracked open a can of the good cat food, and refreshed the water, and placed it by the open window.

8:25 PM.

His stomach gurgled, and he was reminded to the fact that he had barely eaten all day. Breakfast had been a black coffee, as was lunch. He'd chewed a piece of gum and had another coffee since twelve, but otherwise he was now solidly aware to how hollow he felt.

He snagged a piece of leftover pizza from the fridge and ate it cold, as he watched the news. Nothing new. Anti-android protesters outside the former CyberLyfe tower, now christened New Jericho. Android Rights Activists managing to push for legal Android-human adoption laws. Another successful red ice bust, by the Hank Anderson-Connor duo...

He flicked the TV off and finished off the pizza. His stomach seemed to have shrunk, and couldn't even entertain the idea of another slice, so he went to shower instead.

Once the hot water hit his skin, he was rudely reintroduced the the burn on his hand, now circumvented by a dark bite mark. He'd hidden it earlier with his jacket sleeve, but staring at it head on, in the heat of the shower, seemed to make it stand out more garishly. The water burned at it, sharp and needle-like, and his eyes started to sting again.

But he doesn't move his hand from the stream. Just stares at it, feeling the pain sink into him and letting it happen. His shoulders slumped, and he felt...

relief.

It wasn't Nines who was hurting him, and it wasn't some stupid accident that hurt him. This was him, choosing to do this. This was under his control, and his power.

In some fucked up way, it meant he was stronger then Nines led on.

Then he shook his head, feeling ridiculous. Nearly twenty years ago, he swore off these tactics in high school, and he wasn't about to revert to them now just because of some workplace bullying. He finished the shower, brushed his teeth, got dressed for bed.

9:45 PM.

His phone was still sitting on Turtle's mouse pounce toy. Picking it up, he bypassed all the new notifications and set a few reminders. It was still relatively early; usually he didn't sleep until around twelve, but regardless he still collapsed into bed, weariness draining him.

Sleep took a while to come as he lay there, staring at the dark ceiling and missing the usual heavy warmth of Turtle beside him, and trying to ignore how the red light of his alarm clock was the same shade as an android's LED.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm tired dudes
> 
>  
> 
> the story's far from done! i'm gonna try and update as often as possible but that might get wonky bc of real life nonsense


	5. Chapter 5

Another two weeks passed since what Tina dubbed, "The Coffee-Bathroom-Turtle Incident."

(Because there were too many "The Coffee Incidents" and "The Bathroom Incidents", and somehow "The Coffee-Bathroom Incident")

Gavin hadn't talked to her since then. Outside of anything that was strictly work or required talking, he was silent and mostly shrugged at her attempts at conversation.

To put it bluntly, it sucked.

They didn't even hang out after work anymore. More often than not, if Nines wasn't around, Gavin would take the first chance he got to book it at the end of his shift. Otherwise, he'd sit silently at his seat, powering through some report or another until his partner left.

Well, sometimes he'd check the bulletin by the front desk, looking to see if anyone had taken his number from the "Missing" flyer he'd hung up, looking disappointed every time he saw that there were still only two.

Connor, who had taken one immediately after Gavin had put it up,

and Tina, who already had his number, but took one anyways after a week with no change. Just to catch a glimpse of hope on what was left of her friend.

"It's like he's falling apart, El. I can't stand seeing him like this." She finally broke down one day, when her girlfriend's queries finally broke through. "Just-I don't know what's going on anymore. He won't tell me anything, and...fuck. I haven't seen him like this in years."

And Elise comforted her and reassured her and kissed her tears away, but that didn't mean that the problem was gone.

So she plans an ambush.

Twenty minutes before seven, she takes her leave: "Sick friend," she tells Fowler, and it's technically not a lie. She picks up a large fry and two packs of chicken nuggets from McDonald's, and then boba tea and mochi ice cream from across the street. Chris catches up to her as she makes her way to Gavin's apartment, and hands her a six pack of beer.

"Can't stay, sorry." He says, when she asks how he knew of her plan and what the fuck. "But Connor asked me to drop this off for you."

"Tell Connor he's a little stalker. And thanks." Chris smiles, nods, and jogs off again, leaving her with five minutes time to haul ass to Gavin's apartment.

She gets to his door about three minutes before he does, and is waiting for him by the time he steps out of the elevator. He freezes, confused, and looks for a moment like he's about to turn around and run.

"Nope, get over here asshole. We're talking." She huffs, and a weak grin cracks over his face.

"Or else what, you're gonna stand in front of my door all day?"

"I know where your spare key is hidden, and I'm in no rush. Get your ass over here before I drag you in."

He surrenders, and helps her carry the food in. "Alright, alright. God, you really are just like spitfire."

"And you're still a jackass, but you're also my friend. Come on, these nuggets aren't going to eat themselves."

It's just like old times again, before Gavin got promoted to detective and they had time after work to just chill and be regular people. Stuffing themselves on junk food and watching old movies and laughing themselves sick. Playing with a laser pointer and watching Turtle patter after it when there was a lull in the movie, or just talking about the shit that went down that week.

Despite all of Tina's careful planning, it's not the same. For one, not just because Turtle's not there, but also because there's something missing from Gavin as well. He responds to her jokes and commentary with his usual snark, laughing openly with her and wheezing until he's red when she accidentally snorts her drink. But he's tense, and acting like any little thing could send him running. Every break in laughter, when he thinks she's not looking, his face falls back into something somber and stoic.

By the time they've finished off the ice creams and started on the beers, Tina thinks it's safe enough to move into phase two of the plan.

"Hey Gav...are you alright?"

Gavin doesn't respond at first, taking a long pull of his beer. "Hm?"

"You seemed...off, the past month. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't it be?' He's casual, but she can read the sudden tension in his shoulders and the way his grip tightens on the bottle.

"Hm, I dunno. You just stopped talking to me for a little bit."

"Yeah, sorry. Fell into a rough patch, you know?"

"Hm." They're quiet for a bit, sipping at their beers. The movie they're watching, some old supervillain flick from 2018, fills the pause.

 _"That is none of your goddamn business"_ Tom Hardy gasps from the screen.

**"Everything of yours is my business, Eddie. We have no secrets."**

"Is it Nines?" She asks, softly.

In any other case, she might've broken down with laughter as Gavin did an impressive spit-take of his beer. But it feels wrong to find it funny now, as he chokes and grabs at a napkin, mopping up his face.

"Ach, T. What the hell!?"

"Hey, my question first."

"You can't just spring that shit on me!"

"I just did." He glares at her, and she meets it, staring him down. They've had enough encounters like this to know what's going to happen.

He sighs, sets down his drink, and puts his elbows on his knees to stare at the floor. "I'm going to say 'no'."

"And I'm not going to believe you, so try again."

Gavin snorts, and absentmindedly picks a little bit at his wrist through the sleeve. Where his burn was, Tina realized, and she leans over to take his shoulder. He stills, and she's close enough to see he's glassy-eyed with tears.

"Gav...what has he done to you?"

"Nothing! Shit, I swear. He's done nothing."

"Then why are you about to cry?"

"Ugh." He leans back, places both hands on his face. "Why do you have to be so good at interrogations." He groans, muffled through his hands.

"Practice, bitch. And you were always monitoring me."

_"You're sick. Eddie, you're really sick."_

_"No,"_ Tom Hardy's voice cracks sharply. _"I am_ scared!"

"But you're deflecting. I don't know what's going on in your life, and I don't need to know everything that goes on.

But I'm scared,"

She takes a deep breath, feeling shaky.

 _"...and I need_ help. _"_

"And I want to help."

Gavin barks a laugh that sounds closer to a sob. "You can't help me."

"You have to let me try!" But he's shaking his head violently, like a dog shakes off water.

"No, listen. This isn't something...this is ridiculous. Tina, listen-" He puts a hand on her shoulder and looks her dead in the eye. "I know you mean well, and God, I am so fucking grateful to have a friend like you. And that's not the beer talking."

But this...this isn't something you can help with, and besides, it'll be over soon. I promise, and we'll never have to worry about it again."

 **"You never apologized. You might not live to get another chance."**  Growled Venom from the forgotten TV screen.

Gavin's throat works like he's trying to say something more.

_"I just want to say that whatever happens...that I am truly sorry for whatever...._

_and everything that I have ever done to you."_

"...Gav-"

"T."

She wants to do something, say something, anything. Insist that he tell her what's going on. Demand some kind of explanation, so she could raise hell and figure out what's killing him like this.

"I'm sorry. I-I really am sorry for not...I don't know. Being able to tell you about it, But I promise you, after next week, everything will be back to normal, and we won't have to worry about it anymore." Gavin whispers,

 _"What happened to_ we _man?"_

_"What happened to 'we'??"_

There's too much trust in his eyes for her to want to break, and as much as it pains her she stamps down the rest of her questions.

_"Now you're dying too."_

In a silent sort of understanding, they turn away to refocus on the television, watching Eddie Brock stomp away from the hospital.

"God, is this a supervillain movie or a rom com?" Tina snorts, to displace the mood. "Can you believe this."

"This is where the monsterfuckers came from. Who directed this movie? Ruben Fleischer? Ruben Fleischer is a monster-fucker confirmed."

"He probably went down the way he lived, with a tentacle in his ass."

"Ew, you're the monster-fucker."

"Hey!"

She kicks him, and he falls sideways, giggling. "Tina's a monster-fucker" he sang, and she kicks him again.

"I'm not the kinky friend, you jackass. Don't degrade me like this!"

"Easy, Spitfire. You might be a monster-fucker,

but I'll be damned if you're not my friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheh venom came out a year ago


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nines is a lil bitch so take warning. also mentions of depression and a hostage situation gone wrong

It was the one-month anniversary of Nines joining the precinct, and Connor couldn't have been less excited.

A month ago he would have been "over the moon", as Hank would say. But today, as he watched Arel pop a confetti popper over his brother and Ben Collins slap him on the back, he only felt a vague sense of separation. Like he didn't really know Nines at all.

On the contrary, Gavin seemed a little brighter today. A little more like his old self. He laughed willingly with Tina in the breakroom, eating a granola bar. He talked openly with Lewis about a car chase earlier that week that could be related to a red ice web. He even acknowledged Nines, telling him congrats on making it a month. Nines hadn't responded, perhaps too surprised to formulate a response.

Even Hank noticed Gavin's sudden move shift, leaning over the desk to talk to Connor. "Someone's happy."

"Hm." Connor watched Gavin share an image on his phone with Tina, and then chuckle at her apparent amused exasperation. "That's good. He hasn't been happy like this for quite some time."

"Yeah, tell me about it." They're quiet for a moment, simply observing the scene. "Haven't seen him fall into one of those moods in a while. Nines sure hasn't been helping."

 _A while..._ "What do you mean?"

"I mean-" Hank sighs, leans back in his chair a little bit. "Come around to this side. I don't think he'd take kindly to us just talking out loud about it."

Connor pushes away from his desk and scoots his roller chair over to Hank's side. Hank rolls his eyes a little bit at him, but leans in anyways two whisper. "A few years ago, before you showed up-well obviously-he was just a beat cop. Bright and happy-go-lucky, you know? Fresh from the academy.

Then there was his first big job. It was a hostage situation."

Some lunatic had hacked this older model of android to take a gun and go loose in a CyberLyfe repair shop. By the time the police showed, the damn thing had taken hostages. This teenager, couldn't've been older then a college freshman, pinned against the ground with a gun to their skull."

"What was the hostage's name?" Connor asked, quietly. Already scanning databases for records of this case.

"Don't remember. Wasn't there. But Gavin does, of course. Lemme finish telling you about it."

"Alright."

The negotiator couldn't get to the scene on time. It was only the first responders: Gavin, this other beat, and the android enforcers holding off the crowd and providing gunpower. That lunatic-his name was Billy, Billy something-must've thought Gavin was the negotiator or something, he was one of the only humans around.

"Said he'd fuck the kid up worse then death if Gavin didn't get him a car and ten grand in cash, within an hour. Gavin tried to stall him, buy time for the negotiator to get on the ground or for the ransom to get in, but at one point or another he said the wrong thing. And Billy flipped.

"The hostage died?" Connor whispered. He'd found the case file, and already knew the ending. But he wanted to hear it from Hank.

"Not the way you'd expect. Not with a bullet. Billy was the only kind of crazy that could be bred from a red ice pipe. He had a syringe of the liquidized drug with him, and when Gavin ticked him off, he injected the kid right in front of him. Right in the neck.

"The kid died not long after. Gavin killed Billy himself, and damn near wrecked the android too. We could barely get any data out of the thing, it was almost totally melted. The rest of the hostages were fine, but since then Gavin's had on and off periods. Most of the time he'd act like that whole thing never happened, and that's his definition of 'normal', right? But other times..."

The rest was implied, and Connor didn't need Hank to explain. Didn't know if he wanted Hank to explain. "I see."

"Yeah." Hank leaned back in his seat to regard Gavin across from them, now scrolling through a tablet and sipping a cup of coffee. "His psychiatry report afterwards was nearly shot to shit. Fowler debated whether or not to even let him back into work, but he begged his way in."

"Didn't he go to therapy?"

"Yeah, of course he did. He already was before it all even happened. But he stopped as soon as he was deemed safe and sane." Hank shook his head a little bit, looking somber. "He's the kinda guy that doesn't like to admit when he's hurting because he doesn't want to bother people with it."

That seemed to match what Connor knew of Gavin, and it potentially explained his latent dislike of Connor as well. In fact, the more Connor considered it, the more likely it seemed; Gavin failed to save an innocent life from an android-related incident, and Connor, an android, did.

"Nines!"

It was Fowler, standing at the door of his office. "Get in here!"

"Yes, Captain." Connor watched as Nines departed his desk, shoes clicking against the floor. Arel, who had been holding a conversation with him before the Captain called, looked slightly disappointed, before hopping off their perch on Nines's desk to go do something else.

Gavin seemed to deflate from where Connor was watching. Tension seemed to leave him, and while his face was mostly indifferent Connor could read the way his heart sped and the way his eyes lit up. He was happier then Connor had ever seen him.

Fowler had turned on privacy setting in his office. The glass walls were opaque white, revealing nothing. Despite knowing that whatever was happening couldn't have possibly be involving him, Connor felt...worried.

But not for Nines.

Some time passed. He rolled back to his desk, keeping an eye on Fowler's office as he skimmed through an evidence report. Finally, Nines exited.

“Reed!” Fowler called, and Gavin got up immediately. “In here.”

“Yessir.” He strolled over, and disappeared with Fowler into the white box of the office.

Nines was... smiling. Watching Gavin's receding back with a cold grin.

**REQUEST//LINE WITH NINES?**

**LINE: REQUESTED**

**PAGING...**

**PAGING...**

**LINE: ACCEPTED**

_Brother._ Nines voice was always either too loud or too soft when they linked. Now it boomed a little too much, upsetting other systems. Connor winced slightly.

**Nines.**

_Why did you open a line? What is so important you didn't want to talk about it normally?_

**I just wanted to know what Fowler was discussing with you. It was unexpected, and I wasn't sure if it was a topic you wanted to be discussed openly.**

_Ah._ He goes quiet, and for a moment Connor wonders if Nines killed the line. _He was considering reassigning me to a different partner._

**Did he?**

_I changed his mind._ Nines's voice took a tinge of amusement. _I explained that I worked well enough with Gavin, and I would hate for our working relationship to be cut short._

Something in Connor must have malfunctioned, because a sense of ill rose in him. He looked over at Fowler's office, at the milky glass, and could only imagine Gavin's sinking spirits as Fowler broke the news.

**Brother, I disapprove of this.**

_I'm...sorry?_ Nines's LED stutters to yellow. _What do you mean?_

**You've been tormenting Detective Reed, surely you must have been able to tell. You have taken a toll on his mental well-being.**

_I have only teased him, or joked with him. Not once have I hurt him._

**So you think, but he is hurt anyways. If you intend to continue this working relationship with him, you must rectify your behavior.**

_Have him rectify his definition of "hurt" first._ Nines huffs, sounding for all the world like a petulant child. And Connor tells him so.

**You are being impossible. Gavin is not in the wrong here, you are. If you don't-**

_Connor, didn't you tell me Detective Reed once pointed a gun at you during an interrogation?_ Nines snapped, and Connor winced as his voice bounced disproportionately in his ears. _Wasn't Reed the one who tried to shoot you again, in the evidence room? Wasn't Reed the one who bullied and harassed the androids on duty, since even before you showed?_

**Yes, but-**

_I am only giving him "a taste of his own medicine", as they'd say. I have not done nearly as violent as what he has performed against you or anyone else. You, of all people, had been enjoying it as well._

**That does not excuse your behavior!** Connor cried, and Nines noticably winced at the sudden loudness. **You're killing him, Nines, and he doesn't even want to protect himself anymore!**

 _Good. That means he knows he deserves it._ Nines retorted, voice venomous is Connor's head. _I must return to work. Talk to me when you have something important to say._

"Nines-" Connor said aloud, but the line clicked. Hank looked up at him, a little confused.

"You say something?" He asked, pulling off his head phones. At that moment, something banged.

Gavin stormed from Fowler's office, swinging the door hard enough to crack resoundingly in the bullpen. He stalked off, in the direction of the stairs to the roof. Where people went to smoke.

Nines was smiling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im just!!!! losing my mind! goin gferal! apeshit!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> the line between giving up and procrastinating has the width of the great wall but i'm ollying off the edges on my skateboard

**Author's Note:**

> me, seeing gavin in game: haha what a fucking asshole i can't believe people like him  
> me, after dbh fandom opens my eyes to the p o s s i b i l i t i e s: holy shit that's my asshole. that's me. same asshole
> 
> thanks to the friends in the detroit new era discord (https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) for offering good good support for my sad hurt rat story i can't voice how much i could possibly appreciate such nice words


End file.
